


Becoming Peter Nureyev

by thiefwithoutaname



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: A good boy, Backstory, F/M, I will post warnings, Knives, M/M, Peter is trans accept this into your heart, The violent parts are in later chapters, Trans Peter Nureyev, gay shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2019-10-24 14:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefwithoutaname/pseuds/thiefwithoutaname
Summary: Peter Nureyev. A man of a million masks.He spent nearly two decades running from his past, but who was he before? And who is he now?-Peter-Centric Backstory FicPart of the Penumbra Mini-Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!
> 
> I’m excited to present this fic because I’ve wanted to write a backstory for Peter for the longest time. He’s a really important character to me and I’ve written a lot of my headcanons/speculation into this, and I hope I did him justice. I’d also like to thank the people facilitating the penumbra bang as well for the extra motivation to actually write. 
> 
> I’ll be updating this probably irregularly due to school/work/etc. but I’m very proud of it and I hope you like it!

The streets of Brahma were no place to raise a child. Or rather, no place for a child to raise themself. The homeless population of Brahma was forever doomed to keep moving, weaving through the narrow alleyways, ducking under the high arches of doors, and hiding in the shadows of a city that resented their very existence. New Kinshasa, above them in all its shining glory, reigned hellfire on the so-called vermin of the streets. Nevertheless, children unfortunately found their way into the line of fire, more frequently during the War than ever before. Some children were so young they couldn’t even remember their parents’ faces anymore, or where they had come from. Some of them were so unlucky that they didn’t even have a name. Lucky for Peter Nureyev, he had managed to remember. 

Well, his family name. His given name was meant for somebody else he thinks. It didn’t fit him quite right, like a shirt two sizes too small. It felt suffocating when he introduced himself to someone with that name so he simply asked to go by his last name. Nureyev. That didn’t feel as constrictive, it didn’t weight on him in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. Though this posed a challenge to him, if his given name wasn’t his to claim then what should he be called? Nureyev isn’t a proper name, so then, what was his name? 

The answer came to him in the evening when the lavender of the sky was deepening into a dark violent and the red moon was beginning its ascent. A group of street performers were telling a story to an enthralled crowd and Peter leaned in to listen. 

“They say, before the War and the Angel, that Brahma was founded in small villages that lived far apart. Not much is known from this time, but there are legends, and we tell these legends as our history…”

“Peter the Brave! A hero among men. A horde of bandits were coming to overrun his village, but Peter had a plan up his sleeve…”

“... and beyond his strength, he had a cunning, a working mind like no person had ever encountered. He was their saving grace, their guardian angel…”

“Peter the Brave! Slayer of thieves! Protector of the people! He slayed a thousand criminals with just the cut of his wit…”

The performers carried on with a great bravado. Nureyev and the crowd were entranced, so entranced that for a second they almost forgot where they were. The crowd was growing far too large for the local police force’s liking and they immediately stepped in to force them to disburse, interrupting the performance and breaking Nureyev’s trance. He ran away as fast as he could, fearing what would happen if he were caught by one of the constables. 

When he finally reached someplace safe to rest, he sat and thought about the name Peter. Peter felt like it suited him perfectly, like a nice pair of gloves or some new stylish boots. Peter felt bulletproof, it felt like him. Peter Nureyev. That had a ring to it. Peter Nureyev, the brave. Peter Nureyev, the protector of the people. He considered how he might make the constables leave so everyone could sit and watch the street performers and have a good time. He wanted so badly to live in a world where he could change the way he was living. His name was Peter now, after the legend of Peter the Brave, and he swore that if he ever had the opportunity he would live up to his namesake. He would protect his people and his planet from New Kinshasa, and the Solar Army, and any other bullies that came around. 

A protector of the people. Yeah, he liked the sound of that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mag and Peter rob a bank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:   
> -death/murder (of a minor character)   
> -mentions of blood   
> -dissociation 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading and being excited about this. Honestly your comments are so sweet and motivating.

Peter hated offworld jobs. He always felt like he was out of his element, more so now than ever. Mag had been teaching him how to fight and that didn’t come easy to a scrawny boy like him. All those lessons about using his center of gravity against his attacker to incapacitate them haven’t quite sunken in yet. The most self-defense he has is his knife, and the bandages on his hands could tell anyone he doesn’t quite know how to use that yet either. The other problem with a weapon like a knife is that it doesn’t simply incapacitate, it could kill somebody. Peter doesn’t like to think about that. Mag says sometimes sacrifice is required for the greater good. Peter doesn’t like to think about that either. 

As they moved through the foreign bank, Mag came to a halt ahead of him and made a motion for Peter to stop. Mag cocks his head as if trying to listen harder for something and his brow furrows.

“Mag, what-” Peter whispers, but is cut off by Mag.

“Pete, I’m going to go ahead. Stay here and wait for me to give the all clear okay?” He looks poised for a fight. Peter feels a swell of anxiety. 

“Are you sure? What if somebody comes this way? What do I-” Mag walks away while he’s mid-sentence, obviously preoccupied with whatever he thought he heard. 

Peter stands there awkwardly and waits for Mag’s signal. He waits a minute, and then two minutes, and then five minutes until he’s grown impatient and just can’t take the suspense. He’d never been able to stand around for very long, and this was a test of his patience. He walks silently in the direction Mag took with hopes of getting a glimpse of what was happening. He inches slowly to the corner and peaks around. There was Mag, but behind Mag was bank security personnel. Shit. 

Peter stayed with his back pressed up against the wall to catch his breath and just breathe before he had an anxiety attack. He slowly peaked at the scene again. The guard had Mag in a headlock. This was bad, this was very bad. If Peter didn’t act fast, Mag could end up in prison, or even worse, dead. He tried to think straight in that moment, but his thoughts were foggy with anxiety. He couldn’t regulate his breathing no matter what he did. When his hand found his knife, he formulated the only plan his mind could think up. 

He stepped out from behind the corner and before the guard had time to register what was happening he ran up, ducked around Mag, and dug the knife into their side. They cried out in pain and Peter felt their blood on his hands. Mag was tossed aside as they tried to deal with the younger thief, but Peter was too fast again. He wrenched the knife from their side and drove it into their stomach, shoving them backward in the meantime. Peter’s mind was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t believe his own actions. The guard was flat on their back, writhing and groaning from the pain of their wounds. Peter cautiously stepped forward and reached for his knife, taking it from the stomach of the guard. He moved up their body, while his mind was far away his hands did their dirty work. He slitted the guard’s throat, ensuring that they died and that he and Mag were safe. 

Peter stands up and walks away from the body on the floor. His mind is fuzzy, like he’s not quite there. He’s trying to stop himself from having a full blown breakdown. He killed someone. He really killed someone. He drops his knife and wipes his shaking hands on his pants. He might cry if he didn’t feel so far away from his body right now. He didn’t even notice that Mag had gotten up off the floor and was walking towards him. 

Mag clasps Peter in a tight hug and Peter is just barely himself enough to hug back. They hold each other like that for a minute before Mag clears his throat and steps out of the embrace.

“Peter, are you alright?” He asked.

“I. I..” Peter didn’t know. He didn’t know if that was an option anymore, “I’m never going to kill anybody ever again Mag. Not ever. Never.” 

“Peter…” Mag had a sad look in his eyes, something like pity. He can see how scared and hurt Peter is by this, he knows his pain. He knows he’s going to have to live that pain over and over for the rest of his life. The necessary evil they do will be far outweighed by the good that comes of it, but at the moment, it seems like the weight of it all might crush Peter, “Alright. You don’t. You don’t have to.”

“Th-thank you,” Peter blinked tears away, still not quite managing to compose himself. His mind returned to the manner at hand, prepared to ignore his feelings about the dead person at his feet and to finish the job. Mag was already moving on down the hallway and Peter followed behind him. 

“.... Are you okay, Peter?” Mag whispered back to him while they were making their way to the vault. He really, really wasn’t. But, Mag needed him to be. 

“Psh, are _you_ okay? You’re the one who almost got us caught back there,” Peter said playfully, hoping that Mag would take the cue and just change the subject. Mag rolled his eyes. 

“No respect! What are they teaching you young thieves these days!” He feigned insult while they approached a door. Mag knelt down to start the complicated process of unlocking it without a key, “Kids like you should respect your elders.”

“Yeah, well old men like you should be better at your job,” Peter retorted. Mag chuckled while getting the lock open. The air felt less heavy and Peter felt like he could finally breathe easy again. He was happy to be here with Mag, stealing from the rich pigs that had already taken so much from him and delivering the righteous justice that he and the many homeless people everywhere deserved. He couldn’t help but feel a sort of dread in the pit of his stomach though, like what happened with the guard would happen again. He swore it wouldn’t, and he didn’t want to kill anyone. Mag had said he wouldn’t have to ever again. Peter wondered if maybe Mag would ever lie to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter cuts his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter. 
> 
> As always thank you so much for reading and for your continued support! 
> 
> If anyone wants to talk to me about headcanons/AUs please feel free to hmu @ my tumblr which is also thiefwithoutaname

It wasn’t long after Peter had accepted the label terrorist attached to his name that he decided he needed to cut his hair. Business people in New Kinshasa kept their hair long and clean, often styled ornately, as a symbol of their rich status. The poor often kept their hair cut short because it was easier than spending the time and money to keep it clean and stylish. When Peter started living with Mag he let his hair grow long and started styling it himself. It helped him on heists where he was playing some rich person’s son, and it felt rather like he was playing a joke on all the elites on Brahma. Here he was, a street rat sporting a symbol of wealth. 

He couldn’t deny that he thought it brought him closer to Mag as well. Mag had always had longer hair than what would have been the norm for a man of his class and for the longest time Peter would have given the world to be just like him. He couldn’t feel the same anymore. Mag had finally shown what kind of man he is, and Peter no longer had any desire to be like him. 

In a cramped motel bathroom on Gliese 876d, Peter stared into the mirror and then at the scissors and razor on the counter. He’s known he’s wanted to do this since he boarded the shuttle off Brahma, but now that he’s actually faced with the opportunity to cut his hair he’s scared. It’s like standing on a cliff’s edge. He had already forfeited his name, and now he was changing how he looks. He wanted to, he knew he did, but he also felt as if it was betraying a part of himself. 

On the other hand though, it’s not like he needs any more of a reminder of Brahma and Mag and “Peter Nureyev.” He was leaving those things behind and maybe changing his appearance was a step in the right direction. He steeled himself, and then reached for the scissors. He picked them up and felt their weight in his hand. He was overwhelmed with grief, and regret, and guilt. Trusting Mag was a mistake, and killing him was a mistake, and running away was a mistake. He should’ve let the guards take him down, it would have been less painful. 

He reached back and pulled his long locks into his fist and held tight as he cut it all away. The scissors struggled to cut through his thick hair, but he snipped at it until the hair gave way. The hair piled up at his feet and he struggled to keep his hands steady. He felt so free and so heavy all at the same time. This was the end of his world as he knew it. This was the start of a bright shining future. 

He stared in the mirror as his hair was at a significantly shorter length, now it was at his shoulders instead of falling down his back in beautiful, silky tresses. He made quick work of the rest, trimming and styling to perfection. He could mold himself into the man he wanted to be this way, he was sure of it. “Peter Nureyev” was a child with long flowing hair, a terrorist at large in a floating city on some faraway planet. He didn’t know who was looking at him in the mirror now, but he knew this wasn’t “Peter Nureyev” and that thought comforted him for some reason.

On Gliese 867d, the temperatures are higher than anything the young thief has ever experienced. The people there kept their hair trimmed short, some of them going as far as to keep their heads shaved. With his new haircut, he could be anyone. He would like to keep it this way, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter (and others) can be found at: 
> 
> https://martianboyy.tumblr.com/post/182680988373/becoming-peter-nureyev-by-thiefwithoutaname-peter
> 
> Big shout out to Luke for being an incredible artist and making such beautiful things!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter’s first kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings. 
> 
> Chronologically, this takes place a few years after the haircut and Brahma. It’s my personal headcanon that Peter wasn’t always a suave guy and had to practice not being a total nerd around boys he liked so this is basically a culmination of that.

The thief descended the golden staircase into the heart of the party. He watched how the crystal chandeliers caught light and looked around at the high fashion of the crowd, his mind dazzled by the spectacle of it all. Truly it was an image of hedonism and decadence that could only be mirrored in fiction. His name for the night was Augustus Vale, and his mark was Aldrin Woods, who had recently acquired a set of rare diamond jewelry that he was set to display in the coming weeks as an exhibit at a local museum. 

To a less experienced thief, it may have occurred to steal them from the exhibit itself. However, this brings too many variables into play including security teams and security systems and security cameras. The only security at this party was at the door, and Augustus had already secured his invitation and his place in tonight’s events. It was as simple as crossing the ballroom, taking the key to the secret compartment in the bedroom where Woods was surely hiding the safe that contained the jewels, and cracking the safe. It was child’s play really. 

Or it would have been. 

“Have we met before?” A handsome man asked, stopping him clear in his tracks. He was wearing a crisp suit and tie, clearly tailored to accentuate his body. He had vibrant green eyes and light brown skin. Augustus found himself breathless all of a sudden, his pulse picking up. 

“Um. I… don’t believe so?” He managed, silently cursing himself for losing touch with his character and mental clarity, “I believe you’d say I’m… new in town.” 

“Ah!” The man exclaimed and leaned in to whisper as if they were sharing an inside joke, “I knew that, I just said that to get you to talk to me.” 

This stranger winked at him and Augustus thought he was going to swoon. In the years since his time on Brahma, he hadn’t given much thought to romance. He hadn’t had the time. There were flirtations here and there, mostly with the people he was manipulating. Marks, and other players in heists he knew he’d never see again once the heist was over. And he’d never been pursued by someone before. 

“Was... was there something you wanted?” He asked, feeling his face flush. He told himself to pull it together. He had the key and he was right near the door. It occurred to him that this stranger had him right up against the wall, but at the moment he didn’t mind. 

“What’s your name?” He batted his long eyelashes at him. Augustus Vale was a man of strong constitution, and the thief wearing him was a well practiced actor, but seemingly at the whim of this pretty stranger he melted. He hated himself for it. 

“Augustus,” he smiled. He had a job to do, he had places to be. He shouldn’t let himself get wooed by a pretty stranger. 

“Augustus? A pretty name for a pretty boy,” the stranger took a step closer and the thief felt the wall literally up against his back. Not that it mattered, he wanted this man to get closer. Their faces were already inches apart and as if he could read minds, the stranger closed the gap. 

It felt incredible to be kissed by someone you wanted to kiss. The thief decided he should do this more often. His brain was overwhelmed with conflicting thought; Why was he kissing this stranger? Why doesn’t he want to stop kissing this stranger? Did this guy just call him pretty? His head was spinning, and after a moment it ended. 

“I… uh…” The thief was dazed. He’d never kissed anyone before. He didn’t consider himself the flirtatious type either so it surprised him that it had just been as easy as that. He could kiss boys and it was amazing. In his daze he had hardly noticed that the man was hurrying away in the direction he had previously been heading. 

He patted his pockets searching for the key, but it appears to have disappeared along with the handsome stranger. A rookie mistake. He walked out of the party empty handed, but he couldn’t even bring himself to be upset. After all it wasn’t a total loss. He had gotten to kiss a handsome man, and he had picked up a rather useful trick.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nameless man gets information for a ring of thieves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all. I’m so sorry that I haven’t actually updated in a while. Depression and school be like that sometimes. 
> 
> Anyways, content warning for this chapter: torture, dismemberment, blood. 
> 
> If you need to skip that stop at ‘what do you know about the year’s end ball?’ and pick up again at “he was definitely an assassin.” Also for context Peter’s about in his mid-20s now and I always headcanoned him as being ruthless and the only reason he’s as goofy and full of personality in the show is because Juno melted his heart. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“...I just can’t get over it. What’s his deal?” Ariel asked. She was the newest member of Neptune’s best ring of thieves who had been hired to do a job targeting the one of the richest people in the Solar System. The person hiring them had insisted they include the Nameless Man into their heist plans and insisted he would be their greatest asset. 

“I heard he did special ops during the war as an assassin,” Stefan whispered back. The others looked back and forth debating whether or not it was true. 

The man in question sat in the back of the room completely silent, polishing several ornate daggers that the Neptunian thieves had no doubt he would kill them with if they gave him enough reason. He hadn’t spoken the entire time he was with them. It was a mystery as to why the boss was so charmed by him, why everyone seemed to be, except for them. The man must’ve been putting on an act around anyone but his fellow thieves. 

“It’s really none of our business what his deal is, whatever it is. If he wants to sit there acting like a brooding teenager, that’s his own decision,” Mitch said, “We’re gonna get our money’s worth and then hopefully we’ll never have to see him again, goddess willing.” 

The man looked up at them, dagger still in hand and they all looked away suddenly. He slowly got to his feet and walked over to them.

“I am right here, you know?” He said, his voice icy, “And you’re right. It is none of your business why I keep to myself.” 

The man kept himself frigid nowadays. It was hard to feel warmth or much of anything the way he operated. He didn’t keep anything real anymore, he just cycles through aliases who just became a neverending cast of characters in his mind. He didn’t have time for attachments or himself, he had to keep moving, he had to keep surviving. He has remade himself so many times that he couldn’t possibly keep track. It hurt him to be this way, but it was the only way he knew how to function. He was too busy making a name for himself with no name at all. 

The door flew open, smacking against the wall with a crack. In came two more thieves dragging in a squirming captive behind them. The group lept into action to help restrain him, all except for the silent thief. Once the captive was restrained, they deliberated on their next course of action. 

“This is Ace Colville, they’re a bank teller, they work for the mark,” Reggie explained,“They have information we need about the year’s end ball.” 

“Well, let’s see what this bank teller can tell us,” Mitch said, cracking his knuckles. 

“I. I won’t tell you anything! Nothing!” Ace was cut off by a solid punch to the gut from Mitch. After a few wheezes, they could breathe again, “Is that all you’ve got?”

Unfortunately for Ace, the Neptunian thieves had plenty to give. The poor bank teller was punched and battered and beaten until their eyes were bruised shut and they were wheezing heavily. The restraints were burying themselves into their arms and yet, they still weren’t speaking a word. The thieves looked to one another with a question in their eyes. Will they take this any further? This group had a moral standard to uphold. “We’re criminals, not monsters” they would always say. 

Silently, people stepped aside as the quiet man made his way to the front of the group to stand in front of Mx. Colville themself. He knelt down and made eye contact with them.

“Now, Ace. May I call you Ace? This is going to be very simple, you see-” he gestured to the freshly polished dagger still in his hand, “I have this very nice, and very sharp knife here. If you do not cooperate with our requests, I am going to remove your pinky finger, and then your ring finger, and then… well, I suppose you understand, don’t you? Now, be a dear and tell us, what do you know about the year’s end ball?” 

The room went shockingly still, as if everyone was holding their breath waiting to see if this would actually work, and if the thief would remove the bank teller’s fingers one by one as he promised. Sweat dripped down Ace’s brow as they contemplated their next move, conflict evident on their face. After a few minutes they settled on their answer and proceeded to spit in the thief’s face. 

He stood up and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the spit. He looked at the person strapped down and at his mercy thoughtfully, before lining his dagger up to remove their pinky finger. 

“Now,” he methodically cut against bone and skin, his knife so sharp it was hardly an issue, “I understand being loyal to your employer, but truly this is outrageous.”

They screamed and rebelled against their restraints to no avail. The other thieves in the room turned away or watched as if they were unable to look away. The silent thief held up Ace Colville’s detached pinky finger in his hand and then tossed it aside. The newly deformed hand oozed blood from the fresh wound, 

“Now. Ace? Dearest. Darling. Beautiful Ace. Do tell me. What do you know about the year’s end ball?” He grinned down at the person in the chair pleasantly. 

Time passed agonizingly slow as the nameless man went through the process of coaxing information out of the bank teller. They got to leave, alive, and with only slightly more than half of their fingers still attached. The group of thieves got their information, but felt as though they had lost a bit of their humanity. 

“He was definitely an assassin, there’s no way he could’ve done that if he wasn’t,” Stefan insisted again.

“Really? I heard they did genetic experiments on people in the Outer Rim once, like making them inhuman and shit,” Reggie said, “Maybe he’s one of those monsters that busted out of the lab.” 

“Shut up! That only happens in movies!” Ariel exclaimed and slapped Reggie on the shoulder. 

The nameless man was sitting by himself again, cleaning his daggers. He wasn’t listening to them talk about him anymore. He was lost in thought. Cutting off fingers was never pleasant for him, and neither was killing or maiming in any capacity. He just felt as though he needed to do it. The ends could eventually justify the means. This brought a voice into his head though, a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time.

_“Rule number one of thieving, Pete, a master thief does what he has to to get the job done.”_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thief takes notes on his mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Sorry for not adding any chapters in so long, life has been a little bit hectic for me for a while. Hopefully things will be looking up and I’ll actually get this all posted finally. Thank you for being patient.

The thief stalked his way across rooftops, trailing the mark from a distance. It was a cool, quiet night and the mark was sitting at a bar drinking with old friends. Through research the thief could tell the names, ages, occupations, and criminal record of the people at the bar. He also noted some common behaviors of the mark he could use to manipulate them later. 

He sat and watched as people smiled warmly at each other and carried on conversations. Some people left the bar singing. Some left the bar crying. He felt so detached from this very human world, and he felt… almost nothing about it. He was a monster in the shadows watching somebody’s every move. He was a ghost too long dead to remember his own name. He was a siren singing a song to every rich bastard too stupid to think someone might be pulling the wool over their eyes. 

He didn’t feel as though he had a soul as he believed others had. He looked in the bar and saw people who clearly loved each other and hated each other in the same measure. Such a balance of human emotion, something only a human being could perform so perfectly, he had to believe in souls. Maybe at some point he had had one, when he was a child he did, but it had to have been ripped out by now. He was the walking dead, he was a changeling only mimicking human speech and affectation. 

He noted his mark’s dependency on alcohol, a new development after their recent divorce. They had been found cheating on their spouse with another woman and things had gone downhill from there. The thief sat up on his perch and contemplated the alias he would use. Elias Frye had potential but unfortunately his chosen attire wouldn’t catch the eye of the unfortunate divorceé as Elias was a decidedly very plain man. Julien Hart could work, but his tastes are rather extravagant and his flamboyant personality would call far too much attention. The thief would have to craft a new alias in a short time to get anywhere with this mark, and it’ll be shoddy work, but the alcohol should help with that. 

He stands up and watches for just a moment longer before beginning the trek back to his hotel room where he would craft a new identity, one better suited for his prey. Human beings may have souls, but they were so fragile and so predictable. It’s not like he could complain though, if people ever stopped being as small-minded and routine oriented as they were, he’d be out of a job.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter thinks about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I’m going to post this and maybe another chapter today but my 21st birthday is tomorrow and I’m probably going to be out all weekend so I’ll post again Monday hopefully. Thank you for your patience.

His heart was racing as he made his way down backstreets and through alleyways, and not just because he had just escaped the cops. He slows down when he thinks he’s far enough away and just starts taking a leisurely stroll through Hyperion City.

The city lights reflected neon pinks and purples off of the windows and buildings. Above him the sky was tinted a slightly lighter shade of blue than what was natural, the dome keeping them safe from radiation. He could still see the stars though. And how splendid they were against the night sky. The stark contrast reminded him of Juno’s scars. 

He hasn’t felt giddy like this since he was a teenager. As he approached a known safe house for criminals like him, he took a moment to lean up against the wall of the building and just look up at the night sky. 

He hadn’t been Peter Nureyev in decades. Something in him had changed when he met the detective. Something about Juno had reminded him of the man that he had buried within himself. He looked up at the night sky and saw a bounty of opportunities. A billion beautiful futures he could run to with Juno at his side. Each star a point on the timeline of the rest of his life. He could see everything. He didn’t have to be alone. The feeling could bring him to his knees if he wasn’t careful. 

He pushed himself off the wall and used the momentum to walk quickly into the safe house. He’d need to rest up. Miasma was an impatient woman and he already had his sights set on the next artifact. But his mind turned again to Juno, and to standing up against the big mean world and he wondered what life would be like if he could be different. 

Duke Rose, he decided, was a devout husband, hopelessly in love with his gorgeous spouse Dahlia Rose. Dahlia was incredible in every way. She was a curt, somewhat short-tempered person, but incredibly quick witted and undoubtedly the most beautiful creature Duke had ever seen. Duke was originally a nobody from a somewhat humble upbringing. 

Peter readied himself for bed, his mind still spinning with the idea of two new aliases. Aliases that complemented each other. Aliases he and Juno could use. He took off his glasses and washed his face. 

Duke is a fool. A fool in love. And Dahlia loves to act like she’s annoyed with him, but she adores him with her whole heart. Together they are unstoppable. They can do anything they set their minds too. 

Peter stops for a minute and looks at himself. This has become less alias planning and moreso fantasizing about what he might want. Not that he’s going to stop though, he can still salvage this into something decent. He made his way to bed after double checking the locks on the doors and windows, and crawled underneath the covers. He could have a life like that, he thought. Maybe he didn’t have to be alone. 

He rolled onto his side and hugged the blanket to his chest wishing it was a certain detective. He was going to finish his work with Miasma and then he would go back and see Juno again. Maybe they could go on a proper date. Maybe Juno would just want to run away with him. God, he hoped Juno wanted to run away with him. 

He fell asleep slowly, still thinking of Juno and the future ahead.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is the last thing I’m posting before it is birthday weekend time for me. 
> 
> Warning: Peter’s depression and low self worth are very present in this chapter so please be mindful

Peter woke up with the blanket clutched to his chest. He didn’t open his eyes at first and just absorbed the feeling of warmth and comfort. He was basking in the feeling of a moment of peace after a long period of suffering. 

He reached his arm out to feel for Juno, who he had anticipated to be right next to him. He couldn’t feel anything. He opened his eyes and saw that Juno wasn’t there. He sat up too fast, and after his head had cleared of dizziness he looked around the room. There were no clothes on the floor. No note on the bedside table. The bathroom door was decidedly open and revealed that there was no one there. Juno had… left. 

There was a brief moment where sleep clouded his judgement and he thought for a moment, maybe Juno had left to get breakfast, or someone had somehow slipped into their room and kidnapped him in the night. After a minute he knew that none of that was true. 

He had given Juno a choice. They could leave together, or if he so chose he would never have to see Peter again. Of course, the sex wasn’t a confirmation either way. It was probably just something Juno needed to get out of his system. It was about the only thing Peter was good for. 

And why would he have thought Juno would see anything in him? He went along with him through his memories. He knows he saw Mag, he saw Brahma. He saw exactly the kind of man Peter Nureyev is, the kind of person he has always been. He’s an irredeemable and incredibly pathetic nobody who steals and kills without regard for other people. He’s selfish, and stupid, and naive. What did he think would happen? 

It was all his fault. Juno lost his eye because of him. Juno got captured and tortured and all mixed up in this because of _him_. Peter was just a fool who thought because this poor detective had an unfortunate attraction to things that were bad for him, that maybe that meant Juno loved him. Who in the world would love _him?_

He can’t blame Juno. He misread the situation and he should have known, he should have been better. If only he could have realized. 

He realizes that he’s crying and lays back down in bed. He hates it. He was never supposed to be like this again. He didn’t want these feelings. If he could have it his way, he’d cut his heart out and leave it behind and run and run and run and never look back. But he can’t. He’d been stripped bare of his mask and all that was left was the quivering mess that was Peter Nureyev. 

He wasn’t in control of himself anymore. He sobbed and shook and pulled the blankets over his head. He didn’t want to see the sun, he didn’t want to see anything. It hurt. It hurt to know that he gave Juno everything, he let him know Peter Nureyev wholly and intimately, and he decided he wasn’t worth it. 

When he finally stopped crying, he pulled the blankets off of himself and stood to get ready for the day. He went to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror for the longest time. His face was red from crying for so long and he felt dehydrated. He didn’t even want to take a shower, but he dragged himself in and sat under the water for a while. He got out, he got dressed, he grabbed his things and then he left. 

He made a promise to Juno, that he intended to keep. If Juno never wanted to see him again, then Peter would leave Mars and never come back. It is the least he can do to apologize for all the havoc he’s caused.


End file.
